


Maddogging

by Miaou Jones (miaoujones)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-03
Updated: 2009-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miaoujones/pseuds/Miaou%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America and Australia enjoy themselves, and each other, the best way they know how: by amping up the adrenaline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maddogging

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [The Hetalia Kink Meme](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com). The title refers to the adventure sport of going down whitewater rapids on a boogie board.

Trembling with the thrill still coursing through their bodies, laughing with it, dripping delight and whitewater, they climb out of the river, drop their boards, and shake themselves like the mad dogs they are.

America throws back his head and howls to the mid-afternoon sun on its slow approach to dusk, hours to go before it sinks into the horizon. Australia looks at America, face upturned, glistening with unshaken water. America's howl echoes in Australia, shivers in him, and Australia wishes he'd howled, too.

America turns from the sun to beam at Australia. "What d'you think?" He shields his eyes and squints up, and Australia isn't sure if the question is for him or the sun. "Go again?"

"Yeah," Australia says, consulting only the radiance of America's face.

 

Australia wonders how they can still be alive after that; wonders how they could be anything but.

The second run was madder than the first. The thrill still thrilled, and Australia is surprised because they say your first time is always the best, don't they? That there's never anything like it. Yet this was, not a duplication of the first run, but akin in thrill. And so when America asks, Australia has to say that yeah, it was even better the second time. America's grin flashes and holds.

They drop their boards and then themselves. The flood of adrenaline, once as mad as the rapids that consumed them and left them whole, ebbs, trailing a wake of warm shivers in their blood. They stretch out in the grass, shining in the sun, lower now , still beaming down, absorbing the traces of the river clinging to them. Thrumming in the warmth, they offer their bodies to the shivers and the sun.

Rolling onto his side, Australia curls up, tucks himself into warmth, and drifts.

 

He doesn't know how long he's been drifting before he feels a shiver again: a touch, warmer than the sun: fingers on his skin, tracing the waistband of his swim trunks, which cling to him, wet and warmed in the sun. The fingers, America's, are warm, too.

When Australia's breathing changes, coaxed up out of the drift by America's fingers, one fingertip slips inside, turns and traces the length of the waistband, smooth nail brushing over skin; and Australia's breath shivers; and the finger slides in deeper, urging the waistband down with each stroke across. Keeps on until the trunks are drawn half-down, cutting across Australia's arse. And Australia shivers and breathes.

America's breath on Australia's neck is warmer than America's finger on Australia's cleft. And then, heat: "Can I fuck you, Australia?"

"Yeah," Australia whispers. Twisting his hips as America slides the trunks down, he rocks back onto his side, uncurls under the caress of America's hands, adjusting his legs to draw off the trunks completely.

At the urging of America's hand on his hip, Australia rolls onto his front. "Here." America lifts him, slips an improvised cushion of abandoned tee-shirts beneath him; then his hands are back on Australia's hips, sliding over his arse and his thighs, spreading his legs.

Eyes closed, Australia rests his head on his arms, exposed and basking.

America's fingers are slick when they touch him now, but it is not the new coolness that makes Australia shiver as they trace, probe, enter: one slick fingertip worms inside, circling, opening. America's other hand caresses Australia's arse, slides down to his thigh, coaxing Australia apart a little more. A second slick fingertip joins the first, corkscrewing deeper, slickening Australia up; nudging his prostate, sliding across it, relaxing and arousing and intensifying. Australia closes his eyes and listens to the whitewater rush of his blood.

And then America's fingers are gone and his cock is there, pressing, pushing in; America's cock, slicked up and wrapped in latex. Grinning, Australia twists to look over his shoulder. "Were you counting on this, mate?"

"Just hoping for it, man," America smiles, thrusts, "just hoping." He leans in to kiss Australia, and, _oh!_ , America's cock is there inside him, and America's tongue is inside Australia's mouth, and Australia opens and pushes back with him and they're moving together, Australia and America, and America's mouth is gone from him and Australia is breathing in moans, breathing moans into the sun-warmed grass, grass against his lips and eyelids and he twists again, opens his eyes:

"Hang on. Hold up, America."

America stops, still there. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"Yeah, no." Australia tries to catch up to his breath, his heartbeat. "Just. Want to watch you," blinks, "want to touch you."

America's brow smoothes and his mouth, curving up in a smile, comes open: "Yeah."

Australia's own smile is interrupted by a soft gasp at the loss as America pulls out. He lets America turn him onto his back, helpfully lifts his legs, and holds himself open, eyes locked with America's, following America's down when America has to look to position himself. He watches America slide back into him, looks up to find America watching him watch: smile and gasp and smile.

America rolls his hips and Australia arches, rolls with America's thrust, feels the thrust ripple out inside him, ripples lapping at the edges of his nerves, shivering him. America reaches for Australia's cock and Australia reaches for America's face, fingers to lips; and America's mouth opens, America opens for him, takes him and sucks strong and wet and warm, and in the heat of maddogging, Australia forgot about how cool or warm the water was 'cause he was so hot from the thrill; and this is like that, he's flooding with something finer than thrill; thrill and more and other, and America, inside him, expanding him; he's expanding with America, inside himself, outside of himself, beyond, riding the finer-than-thrill waves out to meet, bright hot, the sun; _there_ ; oh _here_ ~


End file.
